


Like Smoke After the Fire (April 2014)

by liz_marcs



Series: Distant Voices [2]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, Heartbreak, Meanwhile Off-Screen, Season/Series 05-06 Hiatus, UST, melancholia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:29:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7800058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liz_marcs/pseuds/liz_marcs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Annie) In the end, she ends up in the middle of the dance floor all alone in a circle of negative space. It’s like having a spotlight shinning on her when all she wants to do is escape to somewhere dark where she can be alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Smoke After the Fire (April 2014)

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Takes place just after “Basic Sandwich” during S5 Community. Some flashack angst for Day 3 of #jxaappreciationweek2016.
> 
> Author's Note 2: Part of the "Distant Voices" series.
> 
> Disclaimer: Abed Nadir, Annie Edison, Britta Perry, Jeff Winger, Shirley Bennett, and all associated characters and organizations are the property of Krasnoff/Foster Entertainment, Dan Harmon Productions, Russo Brothers Films, Universal Television, and Sony Pictures Television. Any mention of real life events and real people is not meant to imply that the people or incidents in question as they are used in the story have any relationship to reality. All original characters and the plot are mine. No payment was asked for or received in the writing of this story and no profit was earned. No copyright infringement is intended.

Somewhere around 10:30 p.m. and the millionth repeat of “Ants Marching,” Annie decides she’s pretty much done.

Don’t get her wrong. She’s happy Greendale’s saved. She’s happy she doesn’t have to scramble to find a school she can afford and that will take some if not most of her Greendale credits. She’s happy her life and her long-term plan can continue without pause.

In short, her life will not change.

Mostly won’t change.

Okay, maybe one big thing will change.

She can’t imagine either Britta or Jeff will want a big, splashy wedding. It’ll be something quick, and low-key. A small friends-only kind of deal.

Which, _God_ , she’ll have to attend. She’ll have to pretend to be happy. Worse, she’ll have to enthusiastically play the consummate Wedding Geek in order to convince everyone that she’s fine, just fine, thankyouverymuch. She’ll have to smile and smile and smile and “aww!” and “aww!” and “aww!” until she goes insane. Just _thinking_ about it makes her want to track down her old dealer from high school to score a stash of Adderall. Enough of those pills in her system, she could not only convince people she was fine-fine-happy-joy-joy, she wouldn’t _care_ that she was dying inside.

Aaaaand she really needs to put a stop to that thought right now. She may have slipped off the wagon a time or two, but she always managed to climb back on before things got dangerously out-of-control. Going down the path where she thinks she needs the pills to get her through a wedding is the path to falling off the wagon and staying off.

As Annie’s mood spirals ever-downward, it seems like the dancing crowd around her can sense her internal shift from triumph to despair. People start dancing away from her. They stop patting her on the back. They stop talking to her.

She has the distinct impression that people are trying to avoid looking at her.

In the end, she ends up in the middle of the dance floor all alone in a circle of negative space. It’s like having a spotlight shinning on her when all she wants to do is escape to somewhere dark where she can be alone.

Annie’s about ready to make a break for it when Abed materializes out of thin air at her left shoulder. It says something about the numbness working its way through her system that she doesn’t even react to her roommate’s sudden appearance.

Without any preamble, Abed says, “They called it off.”

Annie frowns at him, completely uncomprehending.

“Jeff and Britta,” Abed clarifies. “They called off the wedding. Or is it marriage? They got into a fight about it. Britta said wedding. Jeff said marriage. Which do you think is right?”

Annie shrugs. There’s a big difference between the two, and she thinks there might be something significant in the fact that Jeff focused on the life-long implications and Britta on the day-long implications, but she’s too damn tired to figure it out, let alone explain it to Abed.

Still, the news has her searching the crowd. Annie spots Britta dancing next to Shirley like she narrowly missed getting killed by a meteor strike.

“That means it wasn’t Britta,” Abed continues.

Annie shakes her head as she looks back at Abed. “What?”

“Britta wasn’t Jeff passion. She couldn’t be,” Abed says.

“What makes you say that?”

“Annie, it’s not in Jeff’s character to let someone go when he wants them.” Abed’s using that tone he always uses whenever he’s explaining some TV trope that should be obvious to anyone with even a passing familiarity with pop culture.

Annie really hates it when Abed talks like that to her.

“No.” Abed shakes his head, like he’s got it all figured out. “Jeff’s the protagonist who selfishly grasps at whatever he wants, and he generally gets it in the end because he’s able to bring his better qualities into play when in pursuit of a goal. If Britta was the cause, he would be working on a con that would get Britta to the altar, not happily declaring that he won't be marrying the woman he lied and schemed to get with when this whole story started. Ergo, the door opened because _someone else_ is the key.”

“Or _something_ else. There’s no rule saying he was even thinking about a person,” Annie says.

Abed tilts his head and regards Annie with a, “Hmmmm.”

“You know I’m right.”

“I know no such thing,” Abed corrects her. “And I think you’re wrong.”

Annie sighs and looks to the ceiling. “I don’t know what you expect from me.”

“Relief, for one.” Abed almost sounds annoyed. “The Jeff-and-Britta show has been permanently cancelled on account of a truth Jeff can’t escape.”

“I’m tired. It’s been a long day.” Annie rolls her head and shoulders to illustrate her point. When she stops, her eyes just happen to fall on a shadowed corner of the cafetorium.

Despite the fact that she’s in the light, and he’s in the dark, Annie can see Jeff clear as day. He’s leaning against a column with his arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face.

He also appears to be looking Right. At. Her.

She’s sure it’s just her imagination. She’s sure he’s just looking out over the crowd.

If she had to guess, Jeff’s probably kicking himself right now. Maybe for saving Greendale. Maybe for proposing to Britta. Maybe for calling off the wed—

No.

_Marriage._

Jeff said he was calling off the _marriage_.

She’s still not sure why that word “marriage” and all it implies is important, and she’s even less sure why she believes it is. It’s probably nothing more than Jeff’s knee-jerk need argue with Britta over even the dumbest things.

“Do you think he’ll ever tell us how he rebooted Racquel?” Abed asks.

Without taking her eyes off Jeff, Annie snorts. “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

And on that, the last of her courage shatters. She suddenly turns on her heel and heads for an exit that’s as far away from Jeff’s location as humanly possible.

She half-expects Abed to follow. She half-expects Abed to try and stop her from leaving.

Abed does neither.

Instead, she finds herself alone in the darkened hall. The Dave Matthews Band and their goddamn marching ants aren't even muffled behind the closed door.

She takes a deep breath, and resolutely walks down the corridor away from the madness. Take the first left, then the second right, and she’ll be home free. She’ll leave the building right on the edge of Parking Lot D, which just so happens to be where she parked her car. It’s a simple matter of driving away at escape velocity, getting home before Abed, and then locking herself in her bedroom.

And then…

And then…

God, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what to do with herself right now.

So, maybe she should just focus on escaping and worry about the rest later. Much later. When everything hurts a little bit less than it does right now.

Yet, with every step, she expects (or hopes) to hear a voice calling for her to come back, or footsteps following her, or even a hand to fall on her shoulder as a voice asks her to stay.

If this was one of Abed’s scripts that's exactly what would happen.

If this was one of her childish fantasies, that voice, those footsteps, that hand would belong to—

She pushes open the door and steps outside, gulping down the cool spring air like she’s forgotten what oxygen tastes like.

They must be playing Dave and company at top volume because even out here she can hear the muffled horns and harmonica.

After a few minutes of breathing deeply, she shakes herself, straightens up, and begins the long walk to her car.

Annie’s halfway down the path to the parking lot when she hears the door behind her open. The squeal of the hinges echo like a shot in the empty space and Dave’s voice is momentarily clearer than it was before.

 _Escape_ , is the only thought that flies through Annie’s head.

She breaks into a sprint.

She refuses to look back.


End file.
